Uncaged (Corps Security #3.5)

In little flashes, like a projector playing slides of my last moments of consciousness, I remember.

Cohen being Cohen, making me laugh with his innocence and wonky train of thought. Looking up in the mirror to meet his smiling eyes. Driving through the green light and that terrible sound of horns and colliding metal. Screams from my boy and his sobbing voice telling me he loves me.

Then it all fades to black.

Cohen! My sweet boy! Where is my sweet boy?

Oh, God… My girls. It’s too early for them to be out. They still need time!

My ribs burn when my panic starts to escalate. I hear beeping speed up, and those words that were singing earlier stop abruptly.

Then I feel him.

His hands hold my head between them, his warm breath fanning across my face when he speaks, calming me instantly.

“Beauty, my sweet Beauty, calm yourself. Everything is going to be fine. Everything and everyone… You’re all safe, my love.” His lips press against mine for a second before he’s gone.

I try to open my eyes, but they burn. I try to speak, but my throat feels like I’ve been eating dirt and glass. I try to move my arm, but it drops worthlessly.

“Shh. Let the nurse look at you, and I’ll be right here,” I hear Greg say from far away, his voice reassuring but thick with emotion.

I slow my breathing and try to calm down my body. He said that everyone is fine. He wouldn’t have said that if something had happened to our children.

But where are they?

Movement continues around me. My body is poked and moved around. I painfully answer all of her questions and try to remain calm until I feel my husband’s hands on my skin again.

I need him.

I need his touch.

And I need his love.

It feels like an eternity, but it’s probably only ten minutes before I am given some small sips of water and moved to a more comfortable position. My vision is still blurry, but I can see him. The second I see his face, that perfectly handsome face I love so much, I feel a sob bubble out. It hurts—oh it hurts more than I could have fathomed. Not just my screaming ribs, but low on my abdomen, the muscles feel unused and pulled tight.

I see his smile, and even with the tears running silently down his face, that smile never dims. I can tell that he hasn’t slept—his eyes look tired, rimmed red, and swollen. His clothing is wrinkled and stained. He looks…terrible, and it’s the most incredible sight I’ve ever seen.

“You look like crap,” I rasp, smiling up at him as he walks over to the side of my bed.

He laughs, although it comes out more like a sob. “You don’t say?”

“Doesn’t your wife iron your clothes?” I joke weakly.

His tears stop, and the fear leaves his eyes.

“No, she likes me better naked.”

The nurse I wasn’t aware was still in the room snickers from where she’s standing while she enters data into the computer connected to the wall.

“Lucky woman, that wife of yours,” I whisper, my voice still gravelly in a painful way, but I feel my smile grow when he dips and moves his face closer to mine.

“I think I’m lucky one, my beautiful wife.” His lips close the distance again, pressing against mine and peppering loving kisses against my lips and face.

He doesn’t make a move to deepen the kiss. He just keeps raining his love across my face.

When he pulls away, he wipes my tears away with his thumbs. I try to move my hand again, but I break eye contact when I feel the solid weight surrounding it. I see the cast just seconds before I notice my very obvious empty belly.

And I’m right back to where I was minutes before.

“Oh, God! Greg… Cohen and the babies!” My panic rises again.

“Hey… Melissa, calm down. Please. You don’t need to be working yourself up so soon. They’re okay. I promise you. Cohen is with Axel and Izzy. He’ll be back as soon as visiting hours start in the morning. It got too late for him to stay, so they took him home to get some sleep. The girls, both of them… They’re okay and close by in the NICU.”

It takes a few seconds for his words to bleed into my panic-fog, but when they do, I fall back against the mattress and pillow and sob.

The tears fall rapidly. I gasp for breath, causing sharp pains to shoot from my ribs and abdomen. And through it all, Greg continues to whisper his love and reassurance.

My children are alive.

Everything is going to be okay.

I’ve got my husband with his arms around me, pouring every ounce of strength he possesses into my body while he kisses my forehead and whispers softly in my ear. My son isn’t hurt and being cared for by people we trust. And my daughters are here, safe and alive!